


Amber Courage

by sammyspreadyourwings



Series: Queen Prompts [10]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Hot Space Era, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 06:34:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18089276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammyspreadyourwings/pseuds/sammyspreadyourwings
Summary: Brian runs off after his and Roger's first time.





	Amber Courage

**Author's Note:**

> Another move from Tumblr.

Brian feels horrible like he’d rather have hepatitis horrible. It’s his fault he knows. There’s no way it isn’t a hundred percent on him. He has just made it worse by hiding out in his country home. Thanks to John’s impromptu vacation it bought him two weeks to get his thoughts together.

Three days after John’s scheduled return, Brian hasn’t ventured further than the village for groceries.

Everyone may peg him as a mature member of the band, but rarely does he live up to it. None of them do. They don’t have to. They’re untouchable rock legends. It’s a dumb line of reasoning, and ineffective. Legends they may be, but humans they still are. Their actions do have consequences.

At least he kept his phone off the hook. No one knows where he is, which means he can wallow in his own stupidity with no interruptions. Truly, a blessing.

Why after a decade of pining had he finally acted on his feelings?

Easy. He was drunk and Roger was drunk. The sting of a fresh divorce and the feeling of still drying ink on his fingers and a single and willing Roger made his own qualms about the situation vanish.

Why after a decade of pining had did he run?

Less easy.

The ceiling blurs from alcohol or tears he doesn’t know.

So why had he run?

Roger had been drunk and while it was consensual on both sides, it’s hard to know why Roger said yes. Did he not want to get his heart broken when Roger left him cold in the morning?

Not that running had soothed the hurt, so maybe not the reason.

The band is coming off the tail end of their worse recording period to date. Did he not want to add more strain to Queen?

They’re threaded together by a fraying cord, anything could snap it. So maybe not the reason again.

While he lacks the key reason, he knows the emotion behind his flight. He was scared.

Either reasoning doesn’t matter, he figures. He’s fucked it completely by being a coward.

Brian downs another finger of whiskey. It burns his throat, but everything else is a hazy numb. Not comfortable but better than feeling. The glass slips from his fingers and shatters on the floor. He swings his legs over the side of the couch. His bare feet are cut by the shards.

He hisses and brings his feet up to the couch again. The cuts stain the light brown of the fabric. Well, no one else is going to see it. Maybe he should go back to London?

Not today, but soon. With luck and groveling, he could save his place in the band if he gets off his ass soon.

“Well, I’m almost glad you look worse than him.”

Brian blinks. Why was Freddie in his house?  _How_  was Freddie in his house?

“I love both dearly, but you’re being a rather large git.”

“I know.”

“And you’ve stayed out here sipping your sad drinks?”

“What can I do? I’ve fucked this up.”

The whiskey is slowly seeping into the wood of his floor.

“You can grow a pair.”

Brian frowns.

“You’ve made the bed, all you do now is lay in it.”

“Or,” Freddie’s voice lilts up, “you can see if you can salvage anything.”

“Can I?”

“Roger is your best friend, I’m sure you can talk or fight something out. Queen won’t lose you, it can’t.”

“But-”

“It is or it isn’t, darling. You have to make your choice. Go and try or kill your liver faster.”

Brian turns around. Freddie has  _never_ actively said anything about his hepatitis and drinking once he was out of the hospital. His gaze lands on empty space.

Huh.

He leans back on the pillows at watches the ceiling get gradually blurrier.

* * *

It’s raining.

Brian is pretty sure that the weather wants to be properly thematic because he’s no doubt going to get his heart shattered for what feels like the hundredth time since John waved the sheet music to Back Chat.

It’s also London, and rain isn’t rare so maybe it isn’t a sign of end times.

He doubts it.

With a breath that only restores air and no confidence, he knocks a shaky hand against the door. His knees nearly give out.

Roger opens the door.

He isn’t sure why he’s surprised. Maybe because of the dark circles and stringy blond strands. Maybe because he half assumed Roger would just let him drown in a puddle on the sidewalk.

Arguably that might still be an option.

“Oh.”

Well, that’s a wonderful start.

“Roger,” Brian loses his voice, “can we talk?”

“I don’t know,” Roger maintains a wounded pride, “you haven’t proven yourself to be good at it. I thought I’d never see you again, with how you took off without a word or a way to find you.”

Brian winces, “I deserve that.”

“You deserve my fist in your face.”

He waits for the blow. Brian opens his eyes. Roger is just watching him.

“Why?”

Brian bites his tongue, “I was scared. It was too much and too fast. We were drunk.”

“So you thought I’d just fuck and run? And then you just did it first?”

“I fucked up, and I am sorry.”

“Then what do you want?”

“You still in my life, beyond being bandmates,” Brian says, “but I’ll accept anything.”

“You hurt me. Badly. I don’t know, Brian. I don’t know what you want me to do or what I want to do.”

He panics, “I’ve loved you for ten years, and I’ve fucked it up in two weeks. I’ll never forgive myself for hurting you. I’ll take whatever you give me, or don’t give me, and I’ll I ask is that you do consider it carefully.”

“Are you Mr. Darcy?”

Brian doesn’t know if he can joke about Roger being Elizabeth Bennet. Then he sees the small smile and his heart lifts. Maybe Roger doesn’t hate him entirely.

“We can talk about love if we get to that point again. But for now, I’d rather we just go back to being friends.”

> **40 years later**

Brain rolls over and tightens his grip on the waist next to him. He pulls the person closer.

“Morning, love.”

“Already?” Roger groans.

“Odd thing about mornings, they come every 12 hours or so.”

He laughs at the soft strike against his thigh.

“We have to start getting ready soon.”

“Don’t want to.”

“We have rehearsals in three hours.”

“Fine.”

“I love you.”

“Love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me!!  
> As always leave your thoughts below!


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